RISE (Fallout Story)
by Solona Amell
Summary: "Nos, populus in spe" "We, the people of Hope" Apocalypse driven and exhilarating, the people of the Wasteland struggle to survive, every faction with their own Agenda. Their is no certainty of protection or safety, and only the strong survive. Four strangers will fight each other, as well as the Institute. One will live.
1. We The People

_MOJAVE DESERT: DIANA_

* * *

This.

Is.

Revolting.

The hotel stood with nothing less of failing civility, a sore sight for even the most weary of travelers. Diana wasn't picky; she had forced herself to sleep in the worst of places when in dire need... But this. This was just repulsive. Mildewed carpet floors, lined with dirt and grime that had caked over for years, and peeling walls with stains of ungodly proportions. The hotel unfolded to reveal a small lounge, couches on both sides of the door, and a large counter with a oddly pristine bell on its surface. There was just enough lighting to cast a dim yellow glare down on her welcoming host, a shriveled old man with shaky hands and teeth even more putrid a color than the lights in the inn. Diana shuttered as his gaze fled over her.

Her army bag hit the floor hard as she threw it from her shoulder in a huff; clothing to which she refused to part from, and a rather heavy sub-machine gun tucked neatly beneath them. Her own dress snagged at loose splinters and nails from the crooked boards beneath her. Her appearance was shocking; nothing less of New Vegas royalty, and it showed in the way she dressed. The few patrons that huddled inside took no discretion to hide their stare. Scavengers, Chem Pushers, Mechanics; men and woman with little to nothing to their name who wandered the Mohave in packs to survive. Like dogs.

Diana would never lower herself to such standards.

Flicking her hair, and being careful not to touch anything, she approached the smiling elder and did her best not to grimace.

He cackled. "City folk ain't ya."

Her voice was blunt. "Excuse me."

"Don't mean nothin' by it. Just don't see many travelers that ain't neck deep in dirt," he gave another chuckle, followed by a less than healthy wheeze, "hope you don't mind the lack of soap!" he chortled harder.

Diana sniffed. "I'll live."

She presented a very small lump of caps, to which the man was all but too eager to take, leaning over his shambled desk to claw them from her grip. With a final grin at her dismay, he hobbled out of his chair and out of his station, still snorting under his breath he walked. Diana, livid and unamused, followed, taking a small path that lead behind the desk. As they ventured down the hall, she had to slow her pace considerably to keep the man in front of her. And when they'd pass any small frame on the wall, the elder felt obliged to stop and explain, a glint of wonder in his eyes. Diana tuned him out almost instantly, her own eyes trailing the faded papers and parchment that lined the walls of the hotel. Most were poorly written reviews on recycled paper, giving credit to the hotel and it's "management". Something she found to be humorous, given the state of both. But farther down the wall lay the faded remains of newspapers, sealed tightly behind glass, as if preserving the memory.

The old man continued to babble.

"Yes, and this here, this goes back _years._ Back before that damn Deathclaw took my left big toe! Met my darlin' Patricia right there in town. Now let me tell you the story of how we youngins got hitched-"

Diana strolled past him. He was oblivious to her inattention.

Her eyes flickered to each headline behind the frame, brown curls sliding downwards across her brow. Each page had its own agenda, strange and peculiar, and with nothing that seemed to tie it to the hotel. Brow creased, she looked to the man with a peculiar gaze.

"What are these?"

"Whaa.. Oh. Those clippings," he adjusted his pants unceremoniously, "They were here with the hotel. My pa had 'em, and now I have 'em. Been around since we took up the building."

Diana lifted her brow, "You mean _Pre-War."_

"Yes ma'am. The only thing that was left in the building. The whole place was in ruins when my pa found it. Nothin' but dirt. But these newspapers were all still here, behind glass like they are now. Don't have a single clue why. Felt wrong to take 'em down."

His voice was alight with curiosity, nodding along as if he were passing the story down to grandchildren. Diana ran her fingers along the frame, dust clinging to her skin as she moved them away. Squinting, she tried to read the descriptions.

 ** _A NEW SCIENCE: SEE THE FUTURE FIRSTHAND_**

 ** _A SOLUTION FOR DEATH: HOW TO OUTRUN AGE_**

The third was the most worn of all, just a few sentences still legible.

 ** _DEVASTATION: THE INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY'S NEWEST MACHINE_**

Diana shook her head, stepping back. They were serious claims, headlines that would no doubt stand on their own in the entertainment world. Bold and eerie... a shame she couldn't make out the smaller words. But nonetheless, the titles stayed engraved into her vision. Something peculiar in the words.

"The Institute..."

A shaky hand gripped onto her shoulder. She gasped, slipping out of the grasp of the old man as he stared her down, reaching for the small blade he kept strapped to her side under her dress. But his face was of nothing but concern.

"You shouldn't speak that name. Bad omen," he waved his finger lightly, and then put it across his lips, as if to signify silence. His voice lowered to that of a whisper. "I think it's best time you head to your room."

And that was that. The elder wished to speak no more. They walked the rest of the hall in silence, nothing but echoed steps to fill the gap. Diana didn't speak. And the friendly banter of the man had become a simple hummed tune.

The last door of the hotel swung open, revealing a chipped room and exactly what Diana had expected to see. The bed stood in the back corner, torn blanket covering a straw pillow. A small nightstand stood beside it, and a terminal on a desk was adjacent to it, screen still green with activity. Nothing else adorned the room but a small framed painting of a kitten from a tree. How classy.

"Well, here we are!" the elder chirped, "best room in the house if ya want my opinion!" He cackled as she lightly placed her army bag onto the floor. Diana grimaced as she saw the back hit the floor with a light fluff of a dust cloud. Holding herself tight, she gave a simple nod towards the computer.

"Was someone here?"

"Ah. We had a guest a few days ago. Strange fellow he was. Left without a trace. Musta left the computer on." He gave a lazy wave, "Well you can just shut it off on your own." he smiled, shutting the door behind him.

Diana glared, slipping her heels off gently, shivering as her feet touched the wooden planks beneath her. She'd sooner die than spend more than a day here, but it was preferable to the alternative of sleeping outside. The sooner she was out of the Mojave, the better.

Lightly touching a hand to the shredded blanket, she contemplated sleeping away the disgust of her current living. But her attention was drawn to the terminal she had nearly forgotten about, still glowing with activity. Diana pushed herself away from the bed, scanning the screen before sliding into the chair in front of it. Letters and numbers sped downwards, small bouts of red intertwined with certain words. They disappeared too quickly to interpret sentences, but Diana could see words. _Humans, Eden, Vaults..._

 _Institute._

She gave a small gasp, leaning heavily against the desk, the word fading so quickly it seemed to be a trick. But Diana had seen it. She knew. There was a connection with this place, and the man who'd stayed before her. What the hell was hidden in that word...

Desperately, she typed words, hoping for another reaction from the screen. But as soon as Diana issued a response, the screen flashed furiously, and then shut off completely, leaving her to stare at the memory.


	2. Down Falls Society

_COMMONWEALTH: AIDEN_

* * *

The silhouettes danced, subtle in their beauty, and dark in their mystery, much like stars blinking upon the night sky. Aiden watched with dazed imagination. They played scenes across the dusty road, taking forms of strangers to tell their tale as they spread across the ground like the shine upon water. Shadows collided, dance partners changed, and yet another beautiful vision formed in the silhouettes. A simple element in the wasteland, and yet Aiden found beauty in it, the artist inside of him apparent even sitting at a campfire under the green clouds of the sky. He felt at ease.

The fire beside him crackled, and as sparks singed his skin, Aiden was pulled out of his abstraction. Making a mental note to lean too close to the fire, he shook his head wearily, dusting the ash from his face and pulling his attention away from the silhouettes upon the ground and back to the real people around him, sitting cross-legged as he watched. He daydreamed far too much.

Soft laughter and murmurs filled their small camp, all strangers to Aiden. He was a scavenger, once on the road in hopes of finding preserved homes out in the Commonwealth to salvage from. These people were settlers, hardy and kind, despite poverty enclosing them. He just so happened to run out of supplies near their home, and with hunger settling in, bashfully asked for a helping hand. Surprisingly enough, they accepted, as well as inviting him to join their small gathering at night. The masses of settlers would rest around a campfire, drinking, dancing, and socializing. Despite all the alarms that sounded in his mind, Aiden awkwardly agreed, stuttering over his own words.

So here he was, shying away from conversation and staring at the fire in a daze as shadows of others danced around him. Too much of a coward to dance with the others, and too embarrassed to simply get up and leave. Quite the life.

It would be over soon. They'd all slowly drift to sleep, and the next morning, Aiden would be gone. Back to scavenging. He shouldn't concern himself with such insignificant things, but...

"Excuse me?"

Aiden blanched, glancing up from his place on the ground to meet a pair of pretty blue eyes. She stood over him with her head cocked in a coy smile, with short, choppy blonde hair and light bouts of freckles illuminated by the light of the campfire, revealing her baggy jeans and stained shirt. A settler most likely. Younger than most of the others.

"Um, hi.." Aiden cursed under his breath, standing with shaky legs as she gawked. "I mean, hey there, I'm Aiden. The-ah, the scavenger."

The blonde nodded with a shy smile. "Yeah, I know. It's hard not to miss."

"Yeah," Aiden looked down. Obviously she knew who he was. He was alone and away from the crowd, staring. It basically spelled outsider to anyone.

The girl sat down next to him, much to his dismay, but Aiden didn't object, and quickly turned to stare back at the fire. Together, they fought off their own awkward situation, and pretended not to notice the other. It wasn't until minutes had passed that Aiden had the courage to peek at her. She was pretty for sure, but as he watched her out of the corner of his eye, he detected other features that weren't quite normal. Cuts down the side of her face and against her cheek, and something else... a glint in her eyes?

The girl turned to meet his gaze, and Aiden instantly turned away again, face heated not just from the fire. But she didn't seem to notice. She took in a small breath, nearly silent in sound, and then gave him a soft smile.

"I'm Mollie. I'm kind of an outsider too." she held out her hand, staring just beneath his eyes.

"Oh, I didn't know." Aiden shook her hand, squeezing slightly as not to hurt what seemed to be a delicate girl. "I thought you were with the others..."

"Well... I used to be. But people aren't very fond of me anymore."

"What? Why?"

Mollie shrugged, "I left the farm for awhile, just a little trip to get my barrings. But when I came back, no one would speak to me."

Aiden scrunched his brow, not quite understanding, but sympathetic anyway. "I'm sorry to hear that.."

"It's okay. Just thought maybe you would be nice enough to talk to me. Thank you."

As they fell into silence, Aiden returned to his artistic endeavor of watching the shadows. He turned back to gaze at his dancing silhouettes. But they were now still and immobile. It took a good while to realize that they no longer moved in unison, but had stopped moving due to their counterparts. The people around him had seeped into a strange stillness. Confused, he looked up.

Only to find the eyes of every other settler on him. Shrewd and unwelcoming, their sudden silence brought a wave of unease to the once budding life of the camp. The care free dancing and laughter that filled his ears was replaced with reserved whispers, and Aiden felt convinced that the change was due to the girl.

Alarm seemed to flood his body. He turned back to Mollie.

"Why... why are they staring..."

Silence. Mollie's face didn't change.

"They hate me." she sniffled, but no tears dripped from her cheeks. Slowly, she glanced at Aiden out of the corner of her eye. "You don't hate me do you?"

He didn't answer, words scrambling in his mind. Something to diffuse the situation without hurting her. But his slow response gave way to even more sorrow, and tears emerged from her delicate eyes in an instant. As she wiped them away with her arm, he desperately searched for the words to heal the situation-

But he didn't have time to think anymore, as someone else completely interrupted their conversation. Aiden quickly jumped to his feet, trying to explain Mollie's tears to their listener. But it faded from his mind instantly, his jaw dropping as his eyes perceived who was in front of him; a girl with blonde hair and freckles upon her cheeks...

Mollie stood before him, face contorted with anger... as she stared at the same face that sat beside him. Two of them.

Aiden didn't have time to process anything more, as the copy of the young settler in front of him through a punch as soon as she reached Mollie, sounding in a loud crack and a cry of pain. In only seconds, she was on the ground, with the other girl pounding into her fragile frame. She screeched furiously, and suddenly the camp was thwarted into violence, shouting ensued from the desperate pleas that echoed around them. Aiden bounded to his feet as the settlers gathered around in a massive fury, pistols and rifles raised, ready, and pointed at Mollie without delay. Another scream, movement, and a few gunshots rang in the air... and then silence.

Aiden couldn't breathe. The body laid still beneath his feet... and he hesitated to focus his eyes upon the stillness before him. Hands shaking, his head fell to acknowledge what was left of Mollie; flesh and blood... and metallic plating.

He glanced down with a stiff gasp. So she was a synth. He had been sitting next to one of the Institutes creations that entire time...

It took very little for the farm to return to its original pace, the girl who Aiden now realized to be the true Mollie, was soaked in her own blood, and many of the settlers rushed around her for comfort. She pushed them aside with a brash hand, merely taking an offered blanket and standing alone on the outskirts to stare at her handiwork against the synth. The others focused their attention on inspecting the body, and repairing the little injuries they had sustained from the small girl. Conversation resumed, and the camp was what it was when Aiden arrived again, as if nothing had changed at all. No one but he shook at the sight of the dead, and yet it only sickened him more. He refused to look away, and eventually, one of the settlers came to clear the air.

The man scratched his beard with a sigh, watching as they tore through the body like animals, seeking out any tech that was ingrained into her being. "Take notes, boy. That there, is another synth. Stealing the identity of our loved ones. Can tell by your face that you ain't quite sure what happened." He shook his head wearily. "We wanted to give you a warning when we saw her comin' your way. But we didn't want it to know we were on to the Institute. You made a good distraction."

An older women, dark skin slick with sweat, joined his story. "When we had all heard that Mollie went missing, we about right lost our minds. But then just days later we found her, way outside the settlement boundaries. We tried to get a story out of her, but she claimed nothing was wrong. Obviously something was up." the woman tapped her temple, "we know who our people are. And that sure as hell wasn't Mollie."

The bearded man nodded, still gawking at the corpse. "And then.. we found two of them. _Two._ Mollie stumbled into the farm with dirt all over herself, spewing stories about her Institute kidnapping." he pointed towards the girl who still rocking on her toes furiously, and finished the story as Aiden stared. "Mollie was such a sweet girl. Look what the Institute did to her... We had to take that monster out. So we pretended not to know that it wasn't Mollie. Waiting for the chance to take it out without harming anyone. And you gave us the perfect opportunity."

The woman smiled. "Sorry you had to witness it. We hope you'll stop by again." They both shook their heads with soft murmurs, then turned away, leaving Aiden to process all that happened. The camp continued on.

Finally, he breathed deeply, before his eyes drifted back to Mollie. The _real_ Mollie. Her blue eyes gawked back, breathing in strange pulses as she stood huddled under her blanket, fear so deeply delved into her features that she seemed to have no other emotion but that. Hesitating for a just a moment, Aiden stepped closer to say hello, hand reaching out. But the girl's frightened stare became hostile in moments, and he quickly stepped back. She wanted nothing to do with the man who so closely conversed with her clone. Nor did anyone else.

He sighed, watching the farm return to its duties as the celebration finally came to an end with the soft rising of the sun. Taking a final glance at the corpse he once thought to be a new friend, Aiden gathered his things and shoved them into his duffel bag, trotting back to the road in a slow daze. It was back to the life of a scavenger he supposed, and back to shadows being his only companions.


End file.
